


Animal Lovers

by ignipes



Category: Supernatural
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-07-25
Updated: 2006-07-25
Packaged: 2017-10-03 03:21:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ignipes/pseuds/ignipes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The boys go to the zoo and find love in all the wrong places.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Animal Lovers

Her name was Misti-with-an-_i_. She was blonde and perky and wore a pink tank top with a screen-printed panda on the front and no bra underneath.

"Animals are the best," Dean said, smiling.

Misti-with-an-_i_ smiled back, handed a flier to Sam, and said, "I think we should love all of God's creatures equally."

"Amen," Dean agreed. "I love panda bears."

He only winced a little bit when Sam stepped on his foot.

-

__

_Someone's coming!_

_What?_

_What's happening?_

_I can't see!_

_Is someone coming?_

_But it's night!_

_They never come at night!_

_Where are they?_

_I can't see!_

_Why isn't the gate open?_

_They're climbing the fence._

_Fence?_

_What?_

_Fence!_

_Bah!_

_Primates._

-

"Six zoo employees quit without warning or explanation in the last four months."

"So? That's not that unusual."

"No, man, I think it is. Listen to this. First guy leaves without giving notice, never even picks up his last paycheck. Second guy does the same. Third guy quits and tries to sue the zoo for unspecified damages, then drops the lawsuit and vanishes. Fourth guy quits, divorces his wife, abandons his kids, and moves to Nova Scotia. Fifth guy--"

"Yeah, yeah, I get it. They're leaving for a reason. So, what are you thinking, some kind of vengeful animal spirit? Every culture in the world has--"

"No, I think it's more human than that. Check this out."

"'Animal Activists Protest Zoo Renovation.' So? You think these crunchy granola hippy wannabes have something to do with these guys' career decisions?"

"I think maybe these protesters have a good reason to want to cause the zoo some trouble."

"They're just a bunch of unwashed vegetarian do-gooders, man. I've heard about these people. Their celebrity spokesman is that Chad Michael Whatever-the-fuck-his-name-is from the WB."

"Still, it can't be a coincidence that -- wait, what? How do you know that? You watch the WB?"

"Never mind. It's just -- I don't know, Sam. I mean, maybe the chicks don't shave their armpits, but that doesn't make them capable of -- well, of whatever's making those guys leave the zoo."

"We won't know until we check it out. I think we should go to the zoo."

"Fine. Whatever. But only if we get to see the monkeys."

"Why? You want to visit an old girlfriend?"

"Fuck you. I just like monkeys. They remind me of you, before you became a dorkface."

-

__

_What are they doing?_

_Are they coming over here?_

_I can't see!_

_Do they have food?_

_Bah!_

_Quiet!_

_What kind of food?_

_They're just looking around._

_Primates!_

_Are they looking this way?_

_There's something funny about them._

_Do you think they're coming to see me?_

_I'm hungry._

_I said be quiet!_

-

They dropped silently to the ground inside the fence. Dean switched on his flashlight and cast the beam around. A few yards away there was a tall signpost at a fork in the paved trails, and wooden arrows pointed in all directions.

"Where to first?" he asked quietly.

According to the slanted sign by the path, the cage right beside them contained lemurs. Dean shone his flashlight into the cage; half a dozen pairs of round, glowing eyes stared back.

Sam pulled the flier out of his pocket and smoothed it out on the lemur sign, tracing his fingers over the peculiar symbol at the top of the page. "It says here that this group is specifically worried about this zoo's treatment of the ibex."

"The IMAX?"

"The _ibex_. It's a wild mountain goat with long, thick ridged horns and a beard, found in the mountains of the Alps, Pyrenees, central Asia, and Ethiopia."

Dean scowled until he realized that Sam was reading the description directly from the flier. "Okay, so the goat-lovers are worried about the well-being of their beloved goats." He paused, considered. "That's wrong in so many ways I can't even begin to count them."

Sam refolded the flier and tucked it away. "It's a place to start, anyway."

-

_Are they coming this way? _

_They want to see me!_

_What kind of food?_

_Nobody wants to see you._

_They don't look like cat people._

_Nobody wants to smell _you_._

_Bah!_

_Move over!_

_What's that fluttering!_

_Primates!_

_Stop pacing like a tiger in a cage!_

_Are they coming over here?_

_I hope they brought those crunchy crackers._

_Oh, it's just the flamingoes._

_I can't see!_

_But I am a tiger in a cage._

_They are coming this way!_

_Stupid shrimp-eating pinko commie birdbrains._

_I do love the crunchy crackers._

-

"Caribou, moose, greater kudu--"

"Kudu?" Dean asked. He was trailing behind as Sam hurried ahead and read the signs like -- well, like a little kid at the zoo. "Isn't that a kind of tree?"

Sam ignored him and hurried along, reading aloud every sign he passed. "Emu, eland, chamois, kangaroo--"

"Hey, cool, kangaroos." Dean stopped and shone his flashlight into the broad pen, but he saw nothing. Disappointed, he scuffed his shoe on the pavement and began following Sam again. "Dude, how far do we have to walk to find this frickin' imax?"

"Ibex. I don't know, Dean. I don't happen to have the layout of the zoo memorized. Look, here's one you might like."

Dean leaned around Sam to read the sign. "Antelope?"

Even in the darkness, he could see Sam roll his eyes. "Impala, genius. Your one true love."

"Ha, ha. Very funny." Dean thought he saw some vaguely animal-shaped lumps in the far corner of the pen, but he couldn't be sure. Stepping back from the fence, he pointed his flashlight at the ground and began looking for a rock to throw. If he had to trudge through the whole damn zoo in the middle of the night looking for some special goat, the least the critters could do was wake up and entertain him.

But even though his aim was good and the rocks flew true, the animal-shaped shadows in the corner didn't stir.

"Stupid antelope," he grumbled, and wandering farther along the path.

Sam had stopped a few pens down -- elk, wildebeest, pronghorn -- and was staring intently to the darkness. He had Misti-with-a-_i_'s flier out, and he was folding and unfolding the paper absently, running his fingers along the creases.

"You find the ibex?" Dean asked. "It's about damn time--"

"No." Sam shook his head absently, like he was busy thinking about something else. "Not yet."

"Then... what? What do you see?" Dean stopped beside him, looked where Sam was looking. The sign said _yak_, but Dean saw nothing except more lumpy shadows. These ones seemed rather large and bulky, but they were no more exciting than the snoozing impalas had been.

Sam shook himself suddenly and stepped back, bumping into Dean. "Nothing. It's just -- nothing. Let's go."

And he hurried away again.

-

_I hate it when they throw rocks. _

_I told you they weren't coming to look at you._

_Bah!_

_There's something funny about them, I'm telling you._

_Where are they going?_

_Crackers?_

-

There was nothing suspicious about the ibex pen. There was no sign of witchcraft or other nefarious activities, no mysterious symbols and weird amulets or evil graffiti. There was no indication at all that people had been doing anything other than feeding the goats and shoveling their shit.

"There's nothing here," Dean said.

Sam frowned. "We should look around some more. Check out the whole zoo."

Dean grudgingly agreed. He didn't think there was anything supernatural happening at the zoo, but it seemed a shame to go through all the trouble of breaking in and not even get to see any monkeys.

"Okay," he said. "We'll check out the whole zoo, but--"

"We should split up."

"What?"

"We'll cover more ground that way," Sam said. He was already moving away, back down the path they had just walked up.

"No, man -- Sam, wait!" Dean threw his arms out in exasperation. "What the hell? Have you forgotten every horror movie you've ever seen, moron? We're not splitting up."

Sam stopped, but he was fidgeting restlessly, looking over his shoulder and shifting his weight from foot to foot. "Yeah, whatever, but I have to -- I was thinking about -- we have to go." His voice trailed off and he strode away again. After a few steps, his pace quickened to a jog.

"Sam, what are you--" Dean sighed and began to follow him. "Dude, there are wild animals out there."

-

__

_I told you there was something strange about them._

_They're like the others._

_Uh-oh._

_Just like them._

_Bah!_

-

He caught up just in time to see Sam vault over a fence and vanish into one of the pens.

"Sam! Goddamnit."

Dean stopped at the fence and shone his flashlight into the darkness. He saw a Sam-shaped figure creeping along through the shadows, edging toward the animals at the back of the enclosure.

"It's okay," Sam's voice rang out from the darkness. "I just need to -- just give me a minute."

"Sam, where the fuck are you going?"

"Just... checking something."

His flashlight was weak -- fucking batteries were going dead, and that was totally Sam's fault -- and Sam was soon lost in the murky darkness. He thought he heard Sam say something more, but his voice was low, distant, and Dean had no idea who the hell else he could be talking to. Except the animals.

"Sam!"

Dean put his hands on the fence, preparing to chase after his idiot brother, then hesitated. He stepped back and shone the light at the sign by the path. Yaks. Well, it was better than bears or lions. Dean tried, and failed, to remember just what a yak looked like in the daylight. There was a vague image of shaggy hair in his mind.

"Jesus Christ, Sammy, I swear you better have a good fucking reason..."

As he stepped back over to the fence, something on the ground caught his eye. It was Misti-with-an-_i_'s flier; Sam must have dropped it when he vaulted into the pen. Dean reached down to pick it up, unfolded it and smoothed it on the top of the railing. The paper felt warm, and as he brushed his fingers over it he felt a strange tingling sensation, like a tiny electric shock.

There was a noise inside the yak pen, like animals plodding on the packed dirt, but when Dean looked up he still couldn't see anything.

"Whatever," he said, folding and unfolding the flier absently. He raised his voice slightly. "If you get eaten by a yak, it's not my fault."

No reply, except for what sounded like one of the animals exhaling. Yaks probably weren't carnivores. They were just hairy cows, right? With horns and shit, but no sharp teeth. Probably.

-

__

_Oh, my, I do like the looks of this one._

_Primates._

_If he has crackers, send him this way when you're done._

-

Dean paced a few steps, suddenly growing restless. It's not like he had to wait around for Sam to finish looking at whatever the fuck he was looking at. It was a big zoo; he could go and take a look around at the rest, see if he couldn't get to the bottom of whatever was going on. There were other animals to investigate. They'd only passed about fifty different kinds of deer-things in their search for the poor abused ibex.

Like the impala.

Dean took a few steps away from the yak pen, running his thumb over the crease in the flier.

He knew what an impala looked like, of course. He'd seen pictures.

But he'd never seen one up close. They had twisty antlers, that much he knew. Nice, long, elegantly curved and twisty antlers. He'd always wondered what it would be like to touch those antlers, trace his fingers along the hard ridges and stare into those dark, endless eyes, to--

Dean's mind reeled, and he stopped walking.

"Okay. Weird."

It was late. He was tired. He was annoyed. That had to be the explanation. That was the only reason he would be standing here in the middle of the fucking night, in some stupid zoo, his heart racing as he thought about what it would feel like to run his hands over that golden fur, close his fingers around the strong tendons of those four long legs--

"Stop. Jesus. _Stop._"

He closed his hand in a tight fist, crinkling the flier. This was more than weird. This was -- _huh_.

Dean looked down at his fist, at the edges of the paper sticking out.

"Sam?"

No answer. He couldn't see anything in the pen, and he cursed the fucking zoo for shutting all its lights off at night.

"Hey, Sam? D'ya think--"

He heard something. Not quite a voice, not quite a moan. Maybe it was Sam, maybe it was -- _uh, no, not going to think about that._

He set the flashlight down, fumbled in his pocket for his lighter. Sam had been playing with the flier -- _fondling_ the paper, _god_ \-- and then he'd taken off for the yak pen. And now Dean had it, and, well -- _not thinking about twisty antlers, not thinking about twisty antlers, not thinking about twisty antlers..._

"_Fuck!_"

His hand was shaking as he flicked the lighter on, and it was like moving through water, like a huge weight was dragging him down as he held the flame up to the paper. It seemed to take forever to catch, and in those moments he thought about flinging the lighter away, about throwing all caution to the wind and racing along the paved path toward the impala pen, bounding like an antelope on the savannah. There was no reason for him to hold back, to stay away any longer.

Then the paper caught fire. It burned quickly, curling and crumbling away, and he watched the strange symbol at the top of the page vanish in the flames.

As soon as it was gone, there was a strangled, horrified cry from within the yak pen.

A second later, Sam was barreling toward him, running across the pen like all the hounds of hell were on his heels. He flung himself over the fence, tripped over his own feet, executed a perfect somersault roll, and jumped up again.

He didn't stop running until he'd passed the polar bears, clear on the other side of the zoo.

-

__

_Well, that was most peculiar._

_Primates._

_Bah!_

_Can't be trusted, they never can._

_Did I say something wrong?_

_They didn't even bring any food._

_I rather liked the hair on that one._

_Stop that rustling; we're trying to sleep!_

_Did you see him run?_

_Good hair, nice and shaggy._

_Not even one crunchy cracker._

_I wonder if they'll be back?_

-

Sam had been in the shower for eighty-seven minutes.

When Dean heard the water finally shut off, he approached the door cautiously, knocked quietly.

"Hey, Sam?"

There was a muffled grunt.

"I think I figured it out." He tried to sound calm, reassuring. "It was the symbols on the fliers. Not all of them, just a few. I found the same symbols painted in some of the zoo work areas."

No answer.

"That would explain the guys who, uh, quit. All you had to do was touch the paper, and the spell -- uh, the spell did -- uh. You know. The activists. I guess when they said _love all of God's creatures_ they meant -- um."

Still no reply.

Then, Sam's voice low and threatening: "It's your fault."

Dean stared at the closed door. "_My_ fault?"

"How stupid could you be, thinking that some animal activist would flirt with you while you were wearing a leather jacket?" Dean could hear the sneer in Sam's tone. "'Love all of God's creatures,' and you're the fucking genius standing there _wearing_ God's creatures? It's no wonder she picked us out. That flier was for _you._"

"I -- what -- _my_ fault?"

"Yes." A pause, then Sam asked, "Did you touch the -- um. The flier?"

Dean hesitated. "Not for very long."

"So you didn't. Um."

"No," he said quickly. "No. I mean, I burned the fucking thing, didn't I? Saved your ass." As soon as he said it, Dean winced. It was probably better not to mention Sam's ass anytime soon.

"Oh." Sam sounded almost disappointed. "Not even--"

"No. Jeez, Sam, it was a spell. It's not like you... well, it was a spell."

"So you're not--"

"A yakfucker? No, man, that's only--"

Dean heard the shower curtain being thrown back angrily; the water turned on again.

"--you."

Great. This was going to be a fun few days. You'd think Sam would at least have a sense of humor about the whole fucking deal.

Then Dean reconsidered.

Well, okay. Maybe not.

It was probably too soon to start printing up photographs of yaks and leaving them lying around the room.

And probably too soon to mention the hair.

And probably too soon to ask if Sam had -- no, Dean thought. It would _always_ be too soon to ask that. There was some things he simply did not need to know. Ever. At all. In any way.

But for the rest, he would give it a day or two. If it took Sam much longer than that to snap out of it -- or to come out of the shower -- well, that was pathetic.

Dean went back to the bed, laid down. He stared at the painting of the deer on the wall and wondered if every wildlife scene would seem vaguely recriminatory from now on.

He closed his eyes.

When he dreamed, he dreamed about twisty antlers.


End file.
